


tell me something

by quitepossiblyjanuary



Category: Haikyuu!!
Genre: All Characters are Eighteen, First Time, Fluff and Smut, Hand Jobs, M/M, Making Out, Praise Kink, Sexual Experimentation, That's pretty much the whole fic, bokuto has a praise kink and akaashi indulges it, that and they're in love
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-03-12
Updated: 2021-03-12
Packaged: 2021-03-18 20:27:52
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,857
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29988399
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/quitepossiblyjanuary/pseuds/quitepossiblyjanuary
Summary: Akaashi also thinks that he wants to know everything that makes Bokuto’s breath catch like that; he wants to know exactly what makes him stumble over his words and moan and shiver and cry out Akaashi’s name.
Relationships: Akaashi Keiji/Bokuto Koutarou
Comments: 4
Kudos: 179





	tell me something

**Author's Note:**

> haha hi. popping in to indulge my latest hyperfixation, i.e. haikyuu <3 
> 
> unbeta'd; also they're both 18 in this~
> 
> my tumblr is keiqos if u wanna say hi or scream about these two

Bokuto is arguably the softest person Akaashi knows.

It’s almost funny, really; he carries himself with all the bravado of a teenage douchebag, but he couldn’t be less the part. Bokuto spikes his hair, he’s loud, and he’s confident with his body in ways that a lot of teenagers their age are jealous of, but at the same time he’s so easily beaten down by his bad moods, he likes to watch romantic comedies with Akaashi on the weekends, and he has a bigger sweet tooth than he lets on, despite his carnivorous streak after training camp.

So, yeah. Bokuto is soft. _Endearingly_ soft, if Akaashi has any say in it. Which he should, as the world’s resident Bokuto expert and oh, yeah, _boyfriend_.

The title still makes Akaashi’s chest feel warm with affection. It hasn’t been too long since Bokuto stumbled through his confession, which he’d rather unceremoniously blurted out in front of the entire team after a grueling day of practice, but it feels like they’ve been together for an eternity. As if that confession was just a formality for something they both knew all along.

Akaashi pauses where he was boxing an answer to a question on his calculus homework. Bokuto is leaning over a history reading on his bed, his head balanced in his heads by fingers on his temples. He looks annoyed, but interested, in the assignment, stopping every few moments to take a note, and he doesn’t notice when Akaashi puts his pencil down and comes to join him on the mattress.

“Are you almost done?” Akaashi asks mildly, peering down at the textbook between Bokuto’s crossed legs.

The older boy perks up immediately, his assignment forgotten, as he turns to Akaashi with a bright smile. “Almost!”

Akaashi just nods and picks at the loose strands on Bokuto’s comforter. It’s an old, ratty thing, and it used to be a smooth, clean gray, until Bokuto decided to dye his hair, that is. Akaashi glances up at Bokuto’s aforementioned dyed hair, which is currently hanging down messily, released from its usual spiked style after Bokuto had showered after practice. Akaashi likes seeing him like this – the loose strands frame his face and soften his eyes in a private way, a way that only Akaashi ever really gets to see.

The thought makes his heart swell with warmth and his belly fill with a sudden heat. He lets his gaze trail down from Bokuto’s bangs and down the sharp cut of his jaw, along the strong line of his neck to the rounded shapes of his biceps, all the way to his veined forearms, which twitch slightly as Bokuto messily scrawls into the margins of his textbook. Bokuto’s handwriting is too angular, and he writes too spaced apart, but it’s hypnotizing to watch, nonetheless. Akaashi finds himself staring at the shape of Bokuto’s fingers wrapped around his pen, his eyes catching on each knuckle and delicate bone, especially when Bokuto stops writing while reading longer paragraphs and takes to twirling the pen in his hand.

Akaashi exhales as quietly as he can and tries not to imagine the shape of those fingers pressing at the nape of his neck and around the meat of his thigh.

(He fails miserably.)

Bokuto sighs and sets his pen down, placing it in the fold of the textbook before shutting it and putting everything off to the side. He stretches with his arms over his head and makes a satisfied sound. “ _Waah_ , finally done,” he turns to Akaashi and gives a bright smile, “you’re all done too, huh?”

Akaashi just makes a small affirmative noise in the back of his throat before reaching out and taking Bokuto’s hand. Bokuto’s face relaxes with affection, and Akaashi wants to kiss him. So he does.

Bokuto makes a surprised sound, but it melts into something pleased as soon as Akaashi teases his tongue over his lower lip.

They kiss like that for a few minutes, with Bokuto gradually getting pushed onto his back by Akaashi, until he laughs against Akaashi’s mouth. “Hold on, let me move my stuff.”

“Oh, right,” Akaashi sits back for a second to allow Bokuto to set his textbook and laptop on the floor.

Bokuto wiggles his eyebrows at Akaashi. “What brought that on?” He teases, “Is your mind wandering from your studies?”

“You look nice with your hair down,” Akaashi admits plainly. Bokuto’s eyes widen, and his mouth softens with surprise, “I like it.”

“Oh, you…” he trails off, distracted by Akaashi suddenly maneuvering to sit smack in the middle of his lap. “You…” Bokuto tries again.

“I want to touch you,” Akaashi says, “all over. Can I do that?”

Bokuto’s breath hitches, and up this close, Akaashi can easily see the faint blush sprouting high on Bokuto’s cheeks and the minute dilation of his pupils. They’ve kissed a lot, sometimes for hours like they can’t get enough of each other, but it’s never escalated past some frantic grinding, never escalated past the exchanging of high, desperate gasps into each other’s mouths. But Akaashi wants it to, especially now, looking into the gold of Bokuto’s eyes through the messy fringe of his bangs.

He wants it _bad_.

“U-uh, yeah, you can.” Bokuto answers.

“Can you take your shirt off?”

It’s almost like Akaashi can _see_ Bokuto’s train of thought absolutely derailing. His mouth opens and closes soundlessly before he settles on: “Y-yeah. Sure.”

Akaashi leans back to give him some space to pull his t-shirt up over his head. Bokuto shirtless is something he’s seen about a thousand times at this point, between sharing locker rooms and attending practice on overly hot summer afternoons, but he’s definitely not seen Bokuto shirtless in _this_ context.

When Bokuto emerges, his shirt thrown to the floor beside the bed, it’s Akaashi’s turn to be left breathless at the look in Bokuto’s eyes. They’re dark and half-lidded, full of something molten like desire but sweet like trust. Akaashi doesn’t know what to say, so he leans down and kisses Bokuto instead, sliding his tongue against the other’s lips as soon as he makes contact. Bokuto groans quietly into Akaashi’s mouth, his hands coming to rest almost politely at the small of his back, just loosely holding him there. Akaashi cups Bokuto’s cheeks in his hands, rubbing his thumbs over the highest point of Bokuto’s cheekbones, before sweeping his hands down to his neck. The skin there is hot – Bokuto’s always ran hot – but right now it feels almost _scorching_ to Akaashi’s chilled fingertips.

Bokuto’s breath stutters. _He’s so_ _responsive_ , Akaashi thinks to himself. He also thinks that he wants to know _everything_ that makes Bokuto’s breath catch like that; he wants to know _exactly_ what makes him stumble over his words and moan and shiver and cry out Akaashi’s name.

(The last thought makes his dick twitch in his pants.)

Akaashi uses the pad of his thumb to follow the line of Bokuto’s jugular and pauses in kissing him to follow the trail with his mouth, but not before giving the corner of Bokuto’s lips a little goodbye kiss. He moves on to kiss his cheek, then his jaw, and Bokuto leans his head away to give Akaashi access to the pale skin of his neck, and then Akaashi is mouthing at his throat, nipping lightly at the skin there, _feeling_ the vibrations of Bokuto’s pleased moan against his lips. But he’s not done with his neck yet, Akaashi wants to know where the best place is to kiss, where the best place is to _bite_.

“Bokuto,” Akaashi says, “do you mind if I bite you?”

Bokuto makes a _hhhh_ sound that’s not exactly a word and not exactly a moan. “I—no—I don’t. Mind, I mean.”

Akaashi just nods, trailing his lips up to a spot he’s been curious about – a little area of skin under the corner of Bokuto’s jaw, just beneath his ear. Bokuto is slightly tense, and Akaashi realizes he’s _waiting_ for Akaashi to bite him.

 _God_.

Akaashi kisses the spot first, to ease Bokuto into it, before sinking his teeth in gently and sucking a bruise into the skin. Bokuto makes a quiet sound, and his hands flex where they’re still resting at the small of Akaashi’s back. He’s squirming a little bit underneath Akaashi’s weight, and Akaashi almost gasps when he realizes he can feel Bokuto’s dick, fully hard, just under his ass.

Akaashi leans back to observe his handiwork – a small, purplish splotch is blooming on Bokuto’s skin.

“Is it bad?” Bokuto asks.

“No,” Akaashi half-lies. It’s not bad right now, but he’s sure it’ll bruise into something fierce overnight. He knows Bokuto won’t mind, and he probably won’t even notice until someone teases him about it.

Akaashi’s eyes fall to Bokuto’s chest. “Lay down.”

Bokuto does, _slowly_ , the muscles on his stomach flexing as he reclines. Akaashi is drawn to them, naturally, and has a sudden and intense urge to get his mouth on them as soon as he can. For now, though, he lets himself stare appreciatively.

“Like what you see?” Bokuto teases, but there’s a nervous undertone to his voice that Akaashi is going to squash under his proverbial foot.

“Very much.”

Bokuto swallows. It’s a small thing, but the reaction might as well have been a neon sign. Akaashi tucks the information away to use later. And by later, he means in a few minutes.

Akaashi lowers his head and shifts on top of Bokuto a bit, putting himself at eye-level with Bokuto’s collarbones, which he skims his mouth over, delicate, feeling the shape of the bones underneath his lips. Goosebumps rise in his wake, and Akaashi continues down until he can tongue at one of Bokuto’s nipples, gently at first, but then with a flash of teeth because he curious what colorful kind of reaction it can get him.

“ _K-Keiji_ ,” Bokuto stammers, “ _fuck_.”

 _Fuck_ , indeed.

Arousal bursts in Akaashi’s stomach, and he’s suddenly filled with an inspiring need to touch more of Bokuto. _Now_.

He continues trailing his mouth all over Bokuto’s torso, leaving kisses in the dips and valleys of Bokuto’s muscled stomach, his fingers wrapping as much as they can around the expanse of Bokuto’s waist, sinking in slightly where the skin is plush rather than lean. Bokuto is starting to squirm, and a new type of gasp leaves his mouth every time Akaashi finds an untouched spot with his lips. It’s intoxicating, the melody of it, as though Akaashi is plucking strings on some novel instrument, each note coming out smooth and sweet and clear.

Akaashi has reached Bokuto’s hip. He sits back a moment, thinking, before encouraging Bokuto to bend his knees, making his loose shorts fall and bunch up, exposing the skin of his inner thighs. Bokuto swallows again, and Akaashi notices his breathing his measured.

“Akaashi…?”

Akaashi looks up to meet Bokuto’s eyes for a brief second, knowing fully well that his expression is dark with lust. Bokuto seems stunned by his stare and it turns him shy, making him turn his face to the side, his cheeks covered with a faint flush that’s growing more intense by the second.

Akaashi nuzzles the skin at the inside of Bokuto’s knee. “You look really nice,” he murmurs, letting the sound of his words tickle the delicate skin, “like this.”

Bokuto’s reaction to his praise isn’t nearly as subtle this time – Akaashi can feel his muscles flex under his lips, and maybe even more importantly can _see_ Bokuto’s dick twitch under his shorts. Bokuto drops his head back and throws his arm over his eyes. “ _Keiji._ ”

Akaashi kisses halfway down Bokuto’s inner thigh before answering. “Yes?”

But he’s a little mean, and doesn’t give Bokuto any time to answer before sucking a bruise into the skin currently available to him.

“ _Fuck_ ,” Bokuto moans, deep and rumbling and _beautiful_ , “K-Keiji, _please_.”

The _please_ throws Akaashi a little off guard, and the timbre of it hits him square in the gut not unlike a punch. “Please what?” He asks. His own voice is starting to waver out of its usual tone, too.

“Please… uh. Touch me. If you want.” Bokuto peers out from under the crook of his elbow. “I really want you to.”

Silence. Akaashi had expected his ministrations to lead to this, but having it actually _happen_ is a whole different beast. His chest is full of nervous, fluttering excitement and a touch of adrenaline. “Okay,” he breathes.

He hooks his fingers underneath the waistband of Bokuto’s shorts. His heart is pounding. “Can I…?”

Blood is roaring in his ears, so he can’t hear it too clearly when Bokuto says _yes,_ but he can see it clearly in the shape of his mouth and the look in his eyes. They both know they’re toeing a line here, approaching taking something that can’t be returned. But Akaashi is so full of certainty, so full of raw affection and _need_ that he knows he doesn’t have to hesitate any longer.

Akaashi pulls Bokuto’s shorts down over his hips, which Bokuto lifts up to aid in the process, and pulls them all the way down and off, tossing them onto the floor to join Bokuto’s shirt. Bokuto wears boxer briefs – Akaashi has known this probably since the first day of practice, since Bokuto wasn’t exactly shy about changing in the locker room, and in fact, usually got pranked by the others into wearing less clothes for longer periods of time – something Akaashi didn’t have _any_ problem with. But right now, faced with the sight of the taut black cotton stretched over Bokuto’s strong thighs and bulging with the shape of his hard cock – Akaashi is _floored_ by the information.

“You’re gorgeous,” Akaashi breathes. It’s an afterthought more than anything, but the sight of Bokuto’s dick twitching in his boxers up this close makes it the best thing Akaashi has ever said.

“You’re gonna _kill_ me,” Bokuto whines. Akaashi’s lips tip up in a smile.

“Really?” He teases, “I haven’t even touched you yet. What will happen then?”

Bokuto shakes his head, biting his lip. “I’ll die twice?” He offers.

Akaashi huffs his amusement but grows quiet again when he brings his hand up to hover over the still-clothed shape of Bokuto’s erection. “Can I…”

“ _Please_ ,” Bokuto answers, soft, barely above a whisper. Akaashi is pretty sure he’s never heard Bokuto be so quiet in his _life_.

Akaashi nods and turns his focus down. He wraps his hand around the shape of Bokuto’s cock just to feel it, and it’s _hot_ – _hot_ and _hard_ and _twitching_ to attention under Akaashi’s touch. He drags the heel of his palm against it gently, and Bokuto _moans_. Really, _really_ moans. Like, _pornographically_. Akaashi swears under his breath and repeats the motion, glancing up to see Bokuto’s face, but it’s still mostly covered by his forearm, with only his lips and chin visible from Akaashi’s angle.

“ _Koutarou_ ,” Akaashi says on an exhale, “you—the _sounds_ you’re making—”

Bokuto’s hips jump up into his hand. “Say my name like that. Again. _Please_.”

Akaashi swallows and pulls down the waistband of Bokuto’s boxers with a slightly shaking hand before finally, _finally_ wrapping his hand around Bokuto’s cock. “Koutarou.”

 _Feeling_ Bokuto’s cock twitch is a lot different than seeing it. His length is so hard and hot in Akaashi’s hand, and having it move like that because of something _he_ said fills him with an immense sense of importance and an odd feeling of power. Bokuto’s breathing is coming faster, and he finally removes his arm from over his face to look down at Akaashi. His brow is drawn, his eyes full of something desperate and needy. The look sends a zip of adrenaline and arousal down Akaashi’s spine, and he starts to stroke Bokuto in earnest. The drag of his cock is a bit dry in Akaashi’s hand, but Bokuto doesn’t seem to mind – his moans are climbing in pitch, and he’s reached up to grab the pillow underneath his head with enough force that his forearms are tense and shaking with it.

“K- _Keiji_ ,” Bokuto whines, “I—I’m—I can’t—”

“ _God_ , Kou,” Akaashi says, speeding up his strokes, “you look – so _good_ , and you sound so _hot_. Do you—are you gonna come?”

“I— _a-ah!_ ”

Whatever Bokuto wanted to say dissolves into a broken groan, and Akaashi barely has even a moment to register the feeling of Bokuto’s cock pulsing in his hand before he realizes that Bokuto has covered his own belly with the glossy sheen of come.

Bokuto breathes hard as he comes down. Akaashi lets him rest, and stands from the bed to fetch some tissues from the nearby desk, using them to clean his hand and Bokuto’s stomach. Once they’re both slightly cleaner, Akaashi nudges Bokuto over and tucks himself against his side, fitting his face happily into the curve of Bokuto’s neck, which is slightly damp with sweat.

“You like it when I compliment you,” Akaashi states plainly.

“I’m not gonna answer that.”

Akaashi just smiles into Bokuto’s skin. He doesn’t need an answer to know.


End file.
